The woman I’ve flirted with, not knowing what she looks like behind the mask but beholden to the muscular fingers and adroit mind, handed me a slip of paper and a pen and told me to “write it down!”
I was ready to give her my name and number but instead limited my prestidigitational output to “Fort Totten Park,” the place where I ended up yesterday en route to somewhere else. She had asked what I did with my weekend. I said B16 bus and B13 bus from Fort Totten Park. I said those words, articulately.
She sounded interested in visiting the place, based on my very perfunctory account of it as a cool spot. Old military fort, I told her. That’s about as much intellectual direct contact, or connection, as we’ve had. The chitchat has been OK, a little bit over the top perhaps given the dynamics.
Why would I be excited by this? I don’t know. It’s different meeting women organically (ew, what a dumb way to use that word) versus online. Expectations online seem uniform but for whatever success the women walk away with I am typically left with emptiness. No regrets, just emptiness.
In-person connections seem perilous to me now.
One woman from last year (who I’d known for long time before this) resurfaced on my screen last night. I don’t follow her on TikTok but she reappears from autocomplete’s vapors. Yesterday she reappeared with an audible wow from me. Those breasts exploded my brain but it was the legs. I remembered everything about burying myself in them. It was like my first time, and it might as well have been hers. Who knew women these days had trouble finding men to go down on them?
I’ll talk about her now because the coast is suitably clear. It’s been since November. But by coast is clear I don’t mean the passage of time so much as the clearance of any evidence online that we even know each other. We planned a tryst at the Crown Motor Inn or Motor Lodge or whatever the hell it’s called, for the day after Thanksgiving. It was intense and lived up to expectations, but after it ended she got into an Uber car, smiled and waved buh-bye, and we never touched again. We talked online and still do but not publicly. We no longer talk about that night. She has probably had many such nights with other men since.
I shouldn’t do it but I just found her pictures again. She’s on vacation somewhere, I don’t recognize the place name but it’s a beach. I don’t care about the beach. Beautiful, beautiful body, can’t believe I had it all to myself for even one night. But one night only was our plan and we stuck to it, like growed-ass adults.
…
I don’t know why I’m so early here today. I see a dentist later, and I get fresh medz (I hope) on Wednesday. I didn’t expect to have to wait so long for an appointment, and the medz require an in-person appointment. I will remember to plan better about scheduling a follow-up appt in a month.
The dentist visit should make me nervous but, like so many scruples and anxieties in my life I don’t even care what the outcome of this checkup is. Full implants? Bring ’em on.
It probably won’t be that bad but my teeth are not the crown jewel of my health that they used to be. Bruxism cost me two teeth, pulled a couple of years ago, in my first real surgical procedure. Never been sedated like that, where one second there’s a needle going into me, the next second I’m sitting in a different room asking a nurse when we are going to actually do this procedure.
It had been done alright. Two teeth all the way in the back yanked out, or what was left of them that is. They were almost all gone, just had to clean up the detritus and pack up the hole with bones.
All told I felt no real pain, just an occasional throbbing where the teeth used to be. The bones they put in became a part of my body. I wonder whose bone that was? Whose bone is in my mouth?
OK, time to get ready for working. I like working.
